


through the wall

by RoseDeVents



Series: dark & depraved [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, F/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:26:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28459728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseDeVents/pseuds/RoseDeVents
Summary: Ward is bunked next to Simmons on the Bus. One night he overhears what is undoubtedly one of her private moments, sparking guilt and obsession for what he can hear through the wall.
Relationships: Jemma Simmons/Grant Ward
Series: dark & depraved [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2077872
Comments: 17
Kudos: 28





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This series of unconnected stories comes from the darkest corners of my mind. Some are dark, some are depraved and some are both. I hope the dark parts of you enjoy these stories as much as I enjoyed writing them … and getting them out of my head. Mind the story tags!

It’s night three on the Bus and Grant still hasn’t gotten used to sleeping on an airplane. He tries fluffing his pillow. He tries opening and closing and then opening the air vent again. You’d think after a tumultuous trip to Peru, he’d be tired enough to sleep. But he’s feeling energized by the events of the day.

He listens as Simmons opens and shuts the door to her bunk next to his. The airplane they’re on is jumbo sized, but their bunks are tiny in comparison. One wall is a sliding door; one has the bed; one a window; and the other has a small, built-in dresser that barely holds anything.

The bunks are lined up in a row on one side of the plane, except his and Simmons's are separated from the others by a large emergency exit. He’s seen the setup of her bunk and they mirror each other; their beds share the same paper-thin wall. The first night he didn’t notice it, but on the second he realized he could hear her tapping away on her computer into the late hours. She would occasionally thud her head against the shared wall and mutter science-y words.

He forgot to let her know how thin the walls were. She might have heard him as well, but he is stealthy from years of practice so he wouldn’t be surprised if she hadn’t. He makes a mental note to give her a heads up tomorrow.

He hears each footstep of her padding about her room, humming a little tune as she takes off her clothes. Wow, these walls really are thin if he can hear even that. He listens for her to put on her pajamas, but she is sliding into bed instead. Jemma Simmons sleeps naked, interesting. _“OK, perv,”_ he thinks to himself.

Then he hears it. A soft buzzing noise. His thoughts immediately go somewhere dark, thinking of her naked in her bed. But maybe it’s not what he’s thinking it is. Maybe it’s an electric toothbrush. Maybe she’s just brushing her teeth … in bed?

And then she lets out a quiet moan.

 _Nope, not a toothbrush._ But maybe it’s some sort of gadget that Fitz made. Maybe she is taking readings for an experiment? Or something.

The vibration noise gets louder and she lets out a gasp. There is no way he is going to be able to fall asleep now.

He can hear it so clearly that he can picture it. Simmons on her back with a shockingly pink vibrator between her legs. He can barely hear her moan now and it sounds like she put her hand over her mouth. If not her pillow.

He puts his hand against the wall – not quite a wall, more like a partition. He can feel the vibration through it. And then he can feel her rocking her body, it starts slow and then becomes frantic. She lets a moan slip out and then she is still. After a minute, the vibration stops.

Grant's cock is rock hard. He just heard Jemma getting herself off in the next room and all he can think about is what she must look like, splayed out on her bed and relaxed from her orgasm.

He feels like even more of a pervert now. How old is she? Early 20s? It would be creepy of him to keep thinking about her laying naked a few feet from him, but he can’t help himself. He wants to charge into her room and offer his services. If she needs to get off, surely his cock would be better than whatever she was using.

Though it did seem extremely efficient for her. Maybe she prefers it. Maybe she would rather he watch her pleasuring herself …

He wants to groan. To moan. To sigh. But if he makes any noise, she’s going to know. If he touches himself now, she’ll know. He’s going to have to be very, very quiet anytime he is in bed. To prevent an awkward conversation, of course. Not because he’s a creep that wants to listen to her do it again. Surely not.

He feels so guilty. But maybe that’s Grant Ward, Agent of SHIELD feeling that way. Grant Ward, Agent of HYDRA wouldn’t hesitate to get off to Agent Simmons writhing into their shared wall. He wouldn’t worry about it being unprofessional to make a suggestive comment to her the next time they’re alone.

His swirling thoughts have thankfully prevented a lasting hard-on, and he keeps listening for Simmons’ next move but it sounds like maybe she passed out naked in her bed, sated from her orgasm. _Well, good for her._ He stays as still as possible, and eventually falls asleep, too.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the only non-smutty chapter of the story :)

“Good morning,” Grant hears Simmons say behind him in the kitchen. He almost drops the plate he's cleaning, but manages to catch it before it tumbles into the sink.

He hears her giggle behind him.

“I thought you were a specialist?” she teases.

He turns around to see her smiling widely at him. He’s not sure but he might actually be blushing and he’s not sure why _he’s_ the one who’s embarrassed about what happened last night. Probably because she has no idea he heard her.

“There might be hope for you as a spy, science nerd,” he says with confidence, getting the upper hand on her. Because now _she’s_ the one with flushed cheeks. He puts the clean plate on the drying rack and watches as she takes a yogurt out of the fridge.

His next words are on the tip of his tongue and there’s a lengthy internal battle before he actually says them. Which Agent Ward is he allowed to be in this moment? He decides that either the SHIELD or the HYDRA agent would still want to keep Agent Simmons on her toes, so he goes for it. “Did you sleep well?” he asks innocently.

Her body goes visibly uncomfortable but her face does something he doesn’t expect. There’s a slight, proud smile working its way up the corners of her mouth. In the next instant, it’s gone, and she’s blank faced somehow. “It’s the first time I slept through the night since we got on the plane,” she admits.

 _Oh, I bet you did,_ he thinks. 

“What about you?” she asks. “How are you settling in?”

“Still getting used to it,” he says casually. “I’m glad I have you as a neighbor, though. I’ve heard that Fitz snores.”

She laughs. “He does! Poor thing.”

This should be the moment. Clean-shaven, moral Agent of SHIELD Grant Ward should carefully tell her that they share a wall between their beds and it’s not as thick as she might think. He wouldn’t admit to hearing anything, of course, he’d just find a way to suggest they both keep it down.

But he doesn’t say a word. He just half smiles at her as she starts making her tea, before heading to the gun cabinet to do his post-mission checks.

“Hi!” Skye says to him, popping out of nowhere in the hallway.

Grant grimaces. He thought he had a handle on this team; he’d memorized their SHIELD files before even stepping on board. Leave it to Coulson to throw a wrench in his plans and recruit a hacker with no identifiable history. She doesn’t even have a last name.

“Hey,” he says. “How are you feeling?”

“A little sore,” she says. “But you know what would help?”

He rolls his eyes, knowing where this going.

“Please!” she begs. “You said yourself, a specialist can sleep anywhere. Please, please, please swap bunks with me! I’m never going to get any sleep bunked next to Agent Snore-atron.”

“I said no,” he says, shaking his head. He doesn’t exactly tell her _why_. “And don’t ask Simmons either; you know she’s too nice to say no.”

“Ugh, pleeeaaase!” she begs again.

“If you think you’ll have trouble getting to sleep tonight, we could do another training session,” he offers.

“No!” she says aggressively and he raises his eyebrows in response. “It’s fine,” she mutters. “I’ll get used to it.”

He puts his hand on her shoulder. “You are going to make a great agent.”

As he walks away, he wants to shake a finger at himself. That also would have been a perfect opportunity to play the goody two-shoes agent. If he switched with Skye, he’d not only make positive inroads on their relationship but she’d definitely be able to have an awkward conversation with Simmons about her nighttime activities.

He shakes his head. There’s got to be something more important to think about than Dr. Simmons fucking herself against their shared wall. Though even by the time he goes to sleep that night, he hasn’t been able to get her off his mind. 


	3. Chapter 3

It finally happens again a little over a week later. He was starting to wonder if she would ever do it again. He thought, perhaps, she had realized the walls were paper thin and was going to take care of herself in the shower like he did. And especially after the mission in Malta – where one of her former professors _died_ – he didn’t expect her to exactly be in the mood.

He’s just about to turn off his reading lamp and turn in when he hears the buzzing start. He doesn’t stop the gasp from coming out of his mouth, but he manages to control the rest of his movements and be still so he can listen. He closes his eyes to picture it again.

Simmons with her legs spread apart, running her hands down her body. Feeling her soft skin. Pinching the nipples on those perfect, perky breasts. Sliding her hand down to her clit. Forming a perfect “O” with her mouth when she touches herself in the right spot. Picking up the vibrator. Running it over her folds.

His body is still but his cock is stirring. He wants to groan in frustration, but he doesn’t dare make a sound. He keeps listening intensely so he can imagine he’s in the room with her. Watching her. _OK, perv,_ he thinks.

She lets out a low moan. Then another one. His hips pulse on instinct. She doesn’t seem to be stifling herself this time, making each of her soft sighs ring in his ears. He’s not sure but he _thinks_ he can hear how wet she is. He imagines it. Her wet pussy open wide. The hot pink toy sliding in and out of her.

His mind replaces the vibrator with a cock. _His cock._ He starts to leak precum into his boxers.

What would Simmons look like underneath him as he fucked her? Would she make the same sounds? She increases the intensity of her toy and gasps.

He can’t take it anymore. His cock is aching. It wants her pussy. It’ll have to settle for his hand. As quietly as he can, he slides it into his boxers and along his shaft. He’s not sure he’s going to be able to pull this off but there’s just no fucking way he can listen to her without touching himself this time. He hopes she’s preoccupied enough not to notice a slight vibration coming from his side of the wall as he fucks his hand quietly.

Then she starts whispering to herself and he has to bite his lip not to make a sound.

“Give it to me,” she whispers as she keeps fucking herself with the toy. Followed by “yes, yes!” Then “just like that, fuck me just like that.” He imagines she’s talking to him. That he’s the one making her sigh and moan and talk dirty in the dark. His hand moves faster.

“Yes, fuck me!” she whispers even as her breath hitches. He thinks she’s about to come and he’s about ready, too. He knows hearing her will push him over the edge. “Right there. _Fuck me_ ,” she says desperately.

“Fuck me, _Ward_.” And she comes, barely muffling her cry. He’s right there with her, though he knows he was able to be quiet. He hopes it was quiet enough.

But wait a minute, _what the fuck was that?!_ Did she _actually_ say his name? It seems more likely that he imagined it.

 _Pervert._ That’s what she would say now if she found out. Not only did he listen this time, but he joined in. He’s a bad person. She wouldn’t be thinking about him in her bed if she knew. She wasn’t thinking about him at all, he reminds himself. There’s no way she said his name. He had to have been mistaken. _Right?_

He’s still frozen in place, his now-limp cock still in his hand, which is covered in his cum. But if he makes a noise right now, she’ll know. He waits it out patiently, like the well-trained specialist he is.

When he wakes up in the morning in cum-stained sheets, he has to silently scream into the pillow to prevent himself from loudly cursing.


	4. Chapter 4

That whole thing with Agent Amador was seriously fucked up. John had said liberties were being taken for their cause, but he’d never mentioned self-destructing cameras in people’s fucking eye balls. He watches his sheets tumble around in the dryer as he considers what else John Garrett isn’t telling him.

“Are you almost done?” he hears a soft British voice ask.

He turns to see Simmons in the doorway, holding her laundry basket. On top is her own set of sheets.

His cheeks get hot thinking about whether she needs to wash hers for the same reason as him – to destroy any evidence of certain nighttime activities. Though she certainly has nothing to be ashamed of. _Unlike him._

It was only a couple of days ago that he heard her masturbating again, and he hasn’t had a spare moment to wash his soiled sheets till now. He’s been sleeping on the bare mattress and avoiding her as much as possible. He certainly hasn’t been alone with her since; he doesn’t think he can look her in the eye.

“Yeah, looks like 5 minutes,” he says, pointing to the timer on the dryer.

“Excellent,” she says, walking into the small room and setting her basket on a countertop. “Do you mind if I wait then?”

“No,” he answers, though he doubts his body language is conveying the same.

She breaks the awkward silence. “The beds aren’t very comfortable, are they?” she asks him.

He lets out a startled cough, then realizes – before his mind can wander down a dangerous road – that her comment must have to do with the fact they’re both washing their bedding. “No, but unfortunately I’ve had worse.”

“At least we’re separated from the other bunks,” she says with an innocent smile. “More privacy.”

He examines her carefully. This would be yet another opportunity to admit their bunks aren’t quite as private as she thinks. He’s heard her orgasm twice now through their shared wall, and he’s starting to worry that a third time will force him to break his cover. Even now, as she looks at him with that trusting smile, he’s thinking about the way she sounded when she came and how different it might sound if he was part of the equation.

“Yeah, we got lucky,” he says, returning her smile. He’s not sure why he’s even doing it; he’s not really the smiley type of guy. He’s started to notice more and more how Simmons lights up any room she walks into and he sometimes gets infected by it.

As he looks into her eyes, he notices something in the air between them. Or maybe it’s the static cling from the dryer. He thought her rather plain on first meeting, but looking at her now he can appreciate her beauty.

He wants to reach out and touch her cheek, trace her lips with his fingers. _Sweet, beautiful Simmons._ Stick his finger in her mouth and watch her greedily suck on it. _Pervert._ Push her down to her knees so she can suck his cock while his sheets dry. _You are going to hell._ Fuck her as she teeters on the edge of the dryer, moaning his name right into his ear until he cums into her tight pussy. _You are definitely going to hell, you fucking pervert._

“Ward,” she says in a low voice. He wants to gasp. There’s no mistaking it, hearing it again. The inflection is the same. _It really happened._ She really did say his name two days ago when she came.

Before he can think about what that means – and obviously, how to exploit it – she continues in a different tone. “You think you can move your washing into the dryer now?” She gestures to the dryer. The time is up.

“Uh … yeah,” he scrambles. He quickly pulls his clean bedding into his laundry basket. Then he moves his wet clothes from the washer into the dryer and starts it up. “All yours,” he says awkwardly.

“Thanks,” she beams.

He can’t get out of there fast enough. He practically runs back to his room, even as he feels the front of his jeans getting tighter. He throws his laundry basket on the floor and gets his cock in his hand as quickly as he can, leaning against the dresser and pumping furiously.

In that moment, he doesn’t really care if anyone can hear him. All he can think about is Simmons fucking herself while she thinks about _him_. He wonders if she had similar fantasies while they stared at each other in the laundry room. Maybe she was also imagining him tossing her on top of the dryer and fucking her senseless. That’s what she was moaning about the other day – his only insight into her fantasies: _fuck me just like that. Fuck me. Fuck me, Ward._ He cums hard into his hand.

Well, fuck.


	5. Chapter 5

They flew through too many time zones today; there’s no way he’s going to get any fucking sleep. Grant’s been laying in his bed for 57 minutes, trying not to be too annoyed with Skye for betraying their team. After all, he’s doing the same thing.

He’s gotten to know these agents better, and logically he knows not to get too attached. But he’s never worked in an environment quite like this. He’s used to being alone at the end of the day. The Bus might be huge, but there’s always someone around.

Even in bed, he’s not truly alone. He’s gotten used to hearing Simmons on the other side of the wall. He no longer gets startled when she sets an alarm. He even enjoys being lulled to sleep by the sound of her clacking on her keyboard at all hours. More than once, he’s imagined they are in bed together. Not even in a sexual way. One that is embarrassingly more domestic.

He lets out a breath in frustration. He needs to get these thoughts out of his head. Agent _May_ is his next assignment. It’s pretty obvious he won’t be able to fool The Cavalry for too long. And she’s _hot_. He bets May is into some kinky shit. Who cares if Simmons has a schoolgirl crush on him? May is one hell of a _woman_. He’ll thoroughly enjoy getting his rocks off with her.

And then he hears the buzzing again.

He could have sworn Simmons was asleep on the other side, but she must be just as jet-lagged as he is. Maybe that’s why she’s getting out her trusty little toy. It seems to put her right to sleep. But no, wait. _This one sounds different._ The low hum sends a thrill through his body that makes his cock twitch. He can’t picture what it is from sound alone. He listens intently for more clues.

She fumbles around the bed and picks something else up. His whole body is still, listening. There’s a squirting noise that he assumes to be lube being squeezed out of a bottle. _Oh, poor Jemma._ Poor girl wants to get off but she’s not wet enough. He should tap on the wall and offer his tongue. He’ll get her pussy nice and wet for her. And then he’ll fuck her until they’re both exhausted enough to sleep.

And that’s when he hears a second vibration. _Fucking fuck._

He can’t know for sure what it is but he has a suspicion: a double ended vibrator. One end for her pussy and – he shivers at the thought – one end for her ass. He really wishes he took the opportunity he had a few days ago to search her room. He wanted to know for next time – because he unfortunately goes to sleep each night now hoping for a next time – what her vibrator _really_ looks like. Not the hot pink one he’s been imagining. The real one. Because while he isn’t allowed to fuck her, he can still have his fantasies.

The next sounds he hears are pornographic: the lube bottle closing; the first vibrator being shut off; Simmons repositioning herself on the bed; a pained gasp as she forces the lubed toy into her asshole; the dual sounds of the vibrators back on and morphing into one powerful buzz; and the way she moans as she fucks both of her holes at once.

 _It’s too much._ If he had any notion of resisting this time, his control is squashed as he clumsily takes his cock in his hand. Simmons has taken this to a new level. He never dared to dream she would be into anal. The pretty, little picture in his head of the virginal, awkward scientist he met on the first day has morphed into someone quite different.

He imagines her on all fours on the bed, just waiting to be fucked. Either hole will do. She’s covered in lube and he gets to pick. He lets out a moan before he can stop himself and goes perfectly still. He waits to hear Simmons pause or acknowledge his sound, but she’s gasping and moaning so much herself, that he thinks he’s in the clear.

He tightens his hold on his aching cock. In his fantasy, he chooses her ass. He imagines pushing into her tight little rosebud. His hands kneading her flesh as he thrusts into her roughly. She moans through the wall. She fucking loves it. She loves taking his cock.

Simmons starts whispering again. “Oh, right there,” she gasps. “Fuck. Fuck me. Bloody hell.”

He’s right there with her, getting closer to the edge. He knows what will push him over. He’s waiting on bated breath for her to put a face to her fantasies. It _has_ to be him again. She _has_ to say his name.

“Oh fuck,” she moans louder but her words are still a muttered whisper. He can barely make it out when he hears: “Oh fuck, Ward.”

 _Yes, fucking yes. That’s it, baby._ He imagines he’s in the room with her, fucking her still harder now as she writhes on the bed. _Take my cock. Take it all._

He’s no longer listening for the sound of her climax because he’s reaching his own. It’s so fucking hot – but also so very wrong, so he has to be quiet. He can’t let her know.

“Fuck,” he gasps as his cock tightens. “Fuck, Simmons. Fuck.” His whole body feels a release as Simmons slams into their shared wall, gasping from her own climax.

He starts to panic as he comes back into himself. _He didn’t say her name out loud, did he?_ No, he couldn’t have. He wouldn’t have. He holds himself still, barely able to breathe as he waits for evidence that Simmons heard him.

Just when the tension is so unbearable he thinks he’ll snap, an alarm sounds through the Bus alert system – they have another mission.


	6. Chapter 6

He’s so fucking lucky he left a towel and wet wipes by his bed, just in case this happened again. He cleans himself quickly and gets dressed, ready to head up to the briefing room. He listens for movement from Simmons’ room, wondering if she’s remotely prepared to dive into a mission after what she just did. _What they just did._

He thinks if he runs into her in the hall, he might die. His adrenaline is pumping and he needs to make a decision – should he bolt out of his room now or wait for her to leave first? His heart is beating so fast, he can barely hear what she’s doing on her side of the wall. He decides to go for it and practically leaps out the door.

Shit. She’s walking out of her room, too.

His whole body tenses and he struggles to keep his face passive as he casually looks her way. She has a shy smile and a slight flush, but if he didn’t know what she’d just been doing then he’d be none the wiser. _How did she pull herself together so quickly?_

“Good morning,” she says as she walks toward him in the direction of the briefing room.

He clears his throat. “Hey.”

“Did you get any sleep?” she asks demurely.

He turns to lead the way. “A little,” he lies as she follows him. “That damn alarm certainly didn’t help.”

“Quite jarring, isn’t it?” she asks, close enough to touch as they turn into the spacious common room. “I think I was _just_ about to fall asleep when it went off.”

 _Tired herself out, did she?_ If he wasn’t still nervous he accidentally called out her name, he thinks he would try to embarrass her. Ask her if she has any tips for falling asleep on planes. Keep her on her toes. But he can’t even look at her now. 

This has gone too far. He resolves to switch bunks with Skye as soon as possible. That way he’ll be closer to May anyway. He needs to focus on his mission. On his _orders_.

They join the others in the briefing room. Coulson talks about a mysterious death and he barely pays attention. His mind wanders back to Simmons, though he doesn’t dare look at her. Even when she speaks to the room. His brain echoes with the sound of her whispering _“fuck me, Ward.”_

They prepare for the mission and land in Pennsylvania. Something about a freak lightning strike. They go to a firehouse. The mission gets complicated.

Simmons is in danger and there isn’t a damned thing he can do about it. She’s infected with some sort of alien virus and she’s the only one who can find a cure in time. The way she looks at Fitz while facing death is heart-wrenching, but the fact she won’t look at Grant at all wrenches his heart even more.

There’s something there, between him and Simmons. Or there could be. He wants to tell her he’ll make all of her fantasies come true if she figures her way out of this. But he doesn't even say a word to her, keeping his distance from the lab.

When the cargo ramp opens unexpectedly and the rest of the team goes into panic mode, Grant springs into action. He grabs the parachute out of Fitz’s hands with the antiserum and hurls himself out of the plane after her. He can’t fucking believe it when he actually catches her; what are the odds? He sticks her with the device Fitz gave him and hopes that he’s not about to die along with her just because he wants some pussy.

When he pulls the string on the parachute, he’s able to find the life raft inside the pack. He gets ready to pull the self-inflation on that, but first they need to crash into the ocean.

They climb onto the raft after the landing and lay on their backs, soaking wet, both trying to catch their breath. Suddenly, Simmons bursts into laughter. She gets up on her knees, sees his puzzled look, and laughs even harder.

He smiles despite his own feelings. He just jumped out of a plane to save this woman. John would be furious if he found out. Grant’s not supposed to have attachments, he’s not supposed to risk the mission to save some random scientist’s life.

“Are you OK?” he finally asks.

“I’m alive!” she says excitedly, crawling between his legs and putting her hands on both knees as he sits up. “I can’t believe I’m alive!”

“Me neither,” Grant says, taking a deep breath and looking into her smiling eyes. He’s never gotten this close to her before. He’s never been able to look into her eyes like this. He never even knew what shade of brown they were before this moment.

“You saved me,” she says earnestly. “Thank you!” She pounces on him to give him a big hug, her whole body pressed up against him. They are both soaking wet, but they are alive and it’s worth celebrating to some degree.

She leans back and kisses him on the cheek as she goes to rest on her heels again. One arm is still draped around his shoulder and he notices her face change from jubilation to uncertainty. Her eyes move down to his lips and she reflexively licks her own.

He knows what she’s thinking because he’s thinking it, too, and it doesn’t take him long to pull her back toward him and into a deep kiss. Their adrenaline is still pumping, heightening the feeling of their lips locked together.

But he pulls away almost as quickly, suddenly feeling the compulsion to reveal his secret. He wants to show her a glimpse of who he really is before they go any further. _Because he’s done pretending he doesn’t want to go any further._ She whimpers as he puts some distance between them.

“There’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you, Simmons.”

“Oh?” she asks breathily, eyes looking hungrily at his mouth.

He shouldn’t do this. There’s no reason to. But he _has_ to. “The thing is … the walls between our bunks are pretty thin.”

Her eyebrows go up, as if to ask, “and?”

He nervously continues. “Unfortunately our beds share the same wall … and most of the time … I hear things.”

“I know,” Simmons says, almost too confidently. She leans in to kiss him again and he stops her. 

He struggles to find the right words. How is he supposed to admit that he’s heard her getting herself off not once, not twice, but three fucking times? And that he got himself off _with_ her. Her hand is sliding up his thigh.

“So just as a … heads up … you know, at night. When you might think nobody can hear you …”

“Ward,” she says, cocking an eyebrow. “I know.” Her hand comes to rest on the inside of his thigh.

He’s confused. She’s obviously not understanding what he’s trying to tell her. She should be embarrassed. She should be covering her blushed cheeks with her hands, unable to stand being trapped with him on the raft for a second longer.

“What do you mean –?” he starts to ask. But she’s still looking at him in that confident way. She’s definitely not embarrassed. She’s also not surprised. Which means. “You … know? You _knew_?”

Her mouth turns up in a wicked smile. These past few weeks, when he was wrenched with guilt for being a dirty old pervert, listening to her fuck herself through the wall – she _knew_ he was listening. Which means she was moaning his name _on purpose_. She _wanted_ him to hear her.

“Yes, of course,” she almost laughs.

For all his years as a spy, reading people and predicting their moves, he’d never been this surprised. Sweet, innocent Jemma Simmons was not so sweet and innocent after all. _Well, especially not after yesterday._ But she also must have some sort of voyeuristic fetish, at the very least.

That she was capable of looking him in the eye over the past few weeks is remarkable. He’s in awe of her in this moment. The woman who just jumped out of a plane without a parachute to save the team, who buttons her shirts up to the very top, who speaks about tea as if it’s a religion, is … a dirty, little minx.

“And you know what else I knew?” she says, her hand bravely cupping his cock through his wet pants. “That you _liked_ it.”

He looks at her wide-eyed, his cock getting hard in her hand, which is starting to softly stroke him. His brain has short-circuited. He clumsily blurts out, “what color is it?”

She looks at him confused but thankfully her hand doesn't stop. “What color is what?”

“Your … toy?” he practically blushes. He brings his hands to her hips and pulls her into his lap.

“Which one?” she asks deviously.

“The … the …” he stutters as her lips connect with his neck. “I guess it doesn’t matter anymore,” he whispers.

“Why not?” she says sexily into his ear, her teeth tugging on his ear lobe.

He starts to feel more comfortable and his confidence comes back. This little minx has been egging him on for weeks, getting off on his embarrassment. Clearly, she wants him. And here they are, alone in the middle of the ocean. He has her right where he wants her. He slides his hand between her legs and she lets out one of those familiar little gasps he’s been hearing through the wall.

“Because you’re not going to need those anymore.”

 _And if John has a problem with that,_ Grant thinks, _he can fuck off._


End file.
